The Daughter of Sherlock Holmes
by CatBloodxxx
Summary: What is life like for 16 year old Kate, whose father is a consulting detective. I can tell you, there is never a dull moment.
1. Chapter 1

The Daughter of Sherlock Holmes

I make my way through the dull, grey streets of London, listening to my earphones as I went. My school wasn't to far, so I rode my skateboard down the street weaving through the crowd of the street. I feel the wind through my hair, but my grey beanie keeps my head warm. I push on the pavement with my boots. I was wearing my skinny trousers and a Guns n Roses hoodie. My eyeliner flicked out of my eyes like wings, I liked the look. Technically, I am breaking school rules, but I don't do well following rules. I'm just like my dad.

Let me tell you about myself. I'm very clever. I have proved my teachers wrong many times, resulting in many detentions and lots of trouble. I am very good at sports. I'm the quickest runner out of my entire school, including the boys. I also do lots of Martial arts, boxing and self defence. I'm one of the most popular people in my year, due to my cleverness and good looks. I use my intelligence to my advantage. I mess around in the lessons, but I know everything anyway. I walk out of exams with top marks, and this always confuses the teachers. In lessons I talk to my friends, even though I don't trust them. My dad tells me not to trust anyone, and I take his advise seriously. Even though he is annoying sometimes, I know it's just his nature and I don't mind it too much.

I reach Baker St., my new home. I got my dad to unpack for me, seeing as its fault we're moving anyway. I stand outside the building I should call home, and pick up my skateboard. I walk through the door and up the creaking stairs. The living room is small, but homely.

"Kate!" I'm greeted with a hug from Mrs. Hudson. A couple of years ago, Dad ensured her husbands execution in Florida. Of course, I was at home under the supervision of D.I Lestrade, while he was having fun solving the case in Florida.

I hug her back, "It's lovely to see you again Mrs. Hudson." I turn towards dad who is in his mind palace whilst sitting on the sofa, with a blank look on his face. I'm used to being ignored by him. But I thought he might at least greet me into our new home.

Obviously not.

I was disappointed, and my face dropped slightly.

Mrs. Hudson sensed this and tried to invite him into the convocation. She starts gushing.

"Hasn't Kate grown Sherlock, she's a young woman now…" etc.

This appears to distract him so much he notices my presents.

"Ah Kate, I hadn't noticed you there, pass me a pen." His face remains blank; it was hard to stay mad at him for long. I chucked my rucksack on the sofa and walk over to give my dad a pen from my pocket. I was about to give it him when I see a middle aged man, obviously come back from a war somewhere, standing outside our door.

"Dad there's a man waiting outside," I say cautiously.

"Ah, that'll be our 'flat mate'"

"What an ex military soldier?"

"Yes, problem?" he asked me with a questioning face.

"Yes, I don't want to share a flat with an ex _soldier, _who I don't know! I wouldn't want an ex soldier to move in even if I did know them!" I only just noticed my voice had risen more than slightly. He sighed.

"Kate, I need you to understand that I can't pay for the rent on my own."

"You could have at least asked me first before agreeing everything behind my back! Now where's my room, I want to storm into it!"

Dad obviously noticed my anger and replies, "Up the stairs, first door on the left," I leave the room, but I still hear Mrs. Hudson tut before going to answer the door. I sit on my bed and go to my mind palace, and palace everything in its room before leaving it there, for me to find whenever I want.

I must've fallen asleep on my bed; it was only 5:00. There is a small knock at the door.

"Kate?" Mrs. Hudson speaks through the door.

"Yes Mrs. Hudson?"

She creeks the door open and slide in through the gap, holding a mug.

"I know how much you like green tea, so I made it especially for you." She whispers softly.

"Aww thank you." There was a small silence, "What it the 'flat mate' like?" I ask out of interest. I know I can't stay in my room for the rest of my life.

"He is a lovely man. An ex soldier, like you said, he was an army doctor. He came back because he was shot, he has ever such a bad limp." Psychosomatic limp, of course.

"You should come and meet him, he's a nice fella." I nod and walk out of the room.

Walking down the stairs, I hear dad and the doctor speaking. When I enter the room, dad notices my presents and introduces me.

"Kate, this is Dr. John Watson," he then turns to John, "John this is my daughter, Kate."

Not forgetting my manners, I offer my hand out to shake, which he takes kindly.

"Hi," I say not wanting to be rude. "Hello" he greets back. We smile awkwardly at each other and I glance to my dad, oblivious to the awkwardness. Thankfully Mrs. Hudson breaks the silence, "What about these suicides Sherlock, I thought this would be right up your street." I walk over to the window and look out. I see D.I Lestrades car pull up onto the curb. Mrs. Hudson continues, " three exactly the same…" I interrupt.

"Four" they all turn to look at me, dad walks over to me next to me and looks out the window, understanding me.

"What?" Mrs. Hudson asks in shock.

Dad smiles at me, he taught me well, "there's been a fourth."

"There' s something different this time," I add.

D.I Lestrade takes his cue to run up the stairs. Dad turns to him, "Where?"

"Brixton, Loriston Gardens" clearly out of breath.

"What's new about this one?" dad questions.

"You know how they never leave notes," we both nod, "well, this one did. Will you come?"

I knew exactly what his first question would be.

"Who's on forensics?" Lestrade sighs.

"It's Anderson"

We all hate Anderson, he refers to dad as 'the freak', and this annoys me so much. All I want to do it punch his face. And Sally Donovan's. Dad shakes his head.

"Anderson wont work with me,"

"Well he won't be your assistant,"

"I need an assistant," his voice growing louder.

Lestrade looks down, "Will you come?"

Not in a police car, we'll be right behind"

Dad always takes me to the crime scene, but I never get to go in. I always get a policeman babysitting me at the entrance. It started when I was younger and he wouldn't leave me on my own, but the habit stuck and I go with him on every single case.

As soon as Lestrade is down the stairs, dad jumps in the air with joy, "Brilliant!" Some people would call it weird that he is so happy about a dead person, but I find it nice to see him so happy. "Yes! Four serial suicides and now a note! Oh it's Christmas! Mrs. Hudson, we'll be back late, we may need some food." He says a he grabs his coat. Mrs. Hudson huffs, "I'm your landlady dear, not your housekeeper." Dad ignores her, "Something cold will do, John have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up! Hurry up Kate!" and with that we hurry out of the door.

Suddenly he stops at the bottom of the stairs.

"What?" not following what's going on. I wait for a minute for dad to return, and when he does I see John following at his heels. Dad hails taxi and we all clamber in, making our way to Loriston Gardens.

On the way, Dr. Watson asked how dad knew he was an army doctor. Well, it was simple. His stance and haircut suggested military. He has a tan, but not above the wrists. When he walked, he had a limp. But he didn't seem affected suggesting he had forgotten, so his limp is psychosomatic. I hadn't deduced that he was a doctor though.

My deduction skills came in handy at school. I could tell which teacher had a drinking disorder, and which one was having an affair with who. All the dull stuff.

After dad had finished explaining his deductions, leaving Dr. Watson astounded, we arrived at Loriston Gardens. As we walk under the police tape, Sargent Donavan approaches.

"Hello, freak." We are un-phased by her words, it doesn't affect dad in any way. He ignores her.

"We're here to see detective inspector Lestrade," he says sounding bored.

"Why?"

"We were invited," he says bluntly.

"Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look," he says sarcastically.

"Well, you know what I think, don't you." She replies coldly.

"Always sally." He pauses and sniffs the air. "Even though you didn't make it home last night." And he walks past her.

I smile smugly at her as I walk past.

Dad looks around the pavement to see anything; he is met by Anderson's feet.

"Ah Anderson, here we are again," sarcasm seeping through his voice.

"This is a crime scene, I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" coldly.

"Quite clear," dad replies with the same bitterness.

"And is your wife away for long?"

"Don't pretend you worked that out, somebody told you that." His voice sounded tense.

"Your deodorant told me that." Anderson just looked at him with confusion.

"My deodorant?" I smile. I know what dads getting at, what he's thinking.

"It's for men," he grins childishly.

"Of course it's for men, I'm wearing it!" he seemed to be getting angry now.

"So's Sargent Donavan." That seems to have silenced him.

Anderson sharply turns around to glare at sally.

"Oh, I think it just vaporized, may I go in," suddenly sounding bored.

"Now whatever you're try to imply…"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm sure sally came round for a nice little chat and just happened to stay over," he starts to walk by.

I decide to get her back for all the times they called my dad a freak.

"And I assume she scrubbed your floor by the state of her knees." They gave me a shocked glare. I smile back smugly at them and follow my dad up into the house.

I always have the pleasure of staying at the bottom of the stairs. I ask dad, often, if I can go and help, but I always get declined.

I sit on one of the steps while a younger male police officer is told to babysit me. I'm very good at sweet talk. By the time dad finishes, I had wormed all of the information I could get out of the police officer.

Poor woman, named Jenifer Wilson. She had tried to scratch something on the floorboards before she died.

Dad came running out, ranting about something. I wasn't paying too much attention because I knew he would tell he all of it later. He suddenly stops.

"Oh! Oooh!" and he claps his hands together, "serial killers are always hard, you always have to wait for them to make the first mistake."

"We can't just wait!" Lestrade answers.

"No we're done waiting, look, really look, Huston we have a mistake! Get onto Cardiff. Find out who Jennifer Wilsons family and friends are, find Rachel!"

"Of course yes, but what mistake?" his voice rising to a shout. Dad frantically runs up a few steps and suddenly shouts "PINK!"

He runs out the door, and I run out after him. He walks quickly towards the high street. He stops and turns around and stares at me. "The case. Her case." I knew he wasn't talking to me, just at me. I needed an explanation. "Dad, what was the note on the floor? What did it say? What else should I know?"

"It was the beginning of Rachel. She was from Cardiff and has been unhappily married for 10+ years. She has had a string of lovers and she works in the media. There were signs of splash marks at the back of her heel."

"Suitcase?"

"Yes but there is no suitcase in that house."

"And the suitcase would be pink?"

"Yes, obviously"

"Because she had a case, I will assume the killer will have drove her here. So the murderer would get rid of the case as soon as he noticed he had it. Anyone would look conspicuous carrying it, especially a man which is more likely. He has killed for people and has not been caught yet. He is smart, so it wouldn't take him long for him to realize he still had the case. So that means it would be in a back street wide enough for a vehicle five minutes from here."

He smiles at me, "I have taught you well," and I smile along with him.

I found the case after half an hour of me and dad looking. I carry the pink suitcase (dad would look weird carrying it!). We make our way back to Baker Street in a taxi when I realize, "Dad we left Dr. Watson back at the crime scene." He seems un-phased by it, and replied with a simple "Oh yeah" before thinking to himself once more. I suppose he is a grown man who should be able to look after himself.

When we reached Baker Street, dad takes his place at, lying down on the sofa. I put the suitcase on a chair in the kitchen. He will ask for his nicotine patches any second now, he always does when he's thinking.

"Kate?"

"I'm already going," I say as I walk to his room. They are somewhere amongst the hoards of mess on the floor. I stop and look around; his room is nicer than mine. Of course. I find the patches underneath a sheet that is randomly lying on the floor.

I'm so going to have to tidy this room sometime.

I take the box of patches through to him; he normally has more than one on.

Don't know why.

"Thanks, can I borrow your phone?"

"Pft, no!" I laugh at how he thinks I would lend it to him after last time.

"Why not, I just want to send a text."

"Last time you 'just sent a text' I had a psychopath texting me for two months until he got killed by another psychopath! So no!" I laughed again.

"I'll get John to lend me his phone." And with that he whipped his phone out of his pocket. He couldn't just get John here because he needs his phone.

"John could be busy, and I doubt he would appreciate a psychopath texting him in the future. He could be in another part of town. I'm surprised uncle Mycroft hasn't kidnapped him yet." The mention of uncle Mycroft had dad stiffen, but he couldn't annoy John. If he upsets John, John will move out, we wont be able to afford the rent and then we will have to move again. I don't want to move. Again.

I go and sit in the window. Dad has ignored me and is texting John.

Out of nowhere, dad asks, "Do you mind calling Lestrade and asking him the victims mobile number?"

"Sure. Was there a phone on the body?"

"No. And I'm sure it's not in the case."

"The murderer?"

"Most probably."

I walk out of the room and sit on the stairs, the creaky ones. I called up and got the number. I walked over to the desk and wrote out the number, from memory, onto a piece of scrap paper. I then resume my space on the windowsill and wait. After half an hour a sleek black car pulls up onto the curb just outside the house. John hops out after half a minute. Uncle Mycroft no doubt. He hobble up the stairs and as soon as he steps through the door, he sees dad holding his arm with his hands in fists.

"What are you doing?" as if really concerned.

"Nicotine patch," dad says as if saying 'what else?' Sensing John's confusion he adds "Helps me think. It's impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work." Dad had used to smoke, but stopped when I asked him to.

"Good news for breathing though." He smile and nodded in my direction.

"Ah, breathing. Breathing's boring."

John walks forward.

"Is that three patches?"

"Yes, it's a three patch problem." He moves his hands under his chin, making it look like he was praying.

"So?" John asked impatiently, "You asked me here, I'm assuming it important." There is a slight pause in the convocation, as dad doesn't answer John.

"Oh yeah, can I borrow your phone?" John looks at him blankly.

"My phone?"

"Yes, I don't want to used mine. There's always a chance the number will get recognized, its on the website."

"I bet Kate has a phone," he states looking pointedly in my direction.

"Kate wont let me borrow her phone after an incident that happened a while ago." I send an apologetic smile to the good doctor. He gets his mobile out of his pocket and slaps it into my dads open awaiting palm.

"So is this about the case?"

Dad murmurs back, "Her case."  
"Her case?"  
"Yes her case, obviously. The murderer took her case, his first big mistake"

"Ok, so he took her case. So?"

Dad talks to himself, "Its no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it." Before talking to me, "Kate, where's the number?"

"On the desk"

He talks to John again.

"On the desk there's a number, I want you to send a text." And he holds the phone out to John. John smiles to himself in disbelief. "You brought me here… to send a text?" Dad ignores John's disbelief. He speaks in small sentences, as if giving instructions to an idiot.

"Text, yes, the number, on my desk"

Although he was told to do something, Johns mind was elsewhere.

Dad notices.

"What's wrong?"

John sighs, "I just met a friend of yours." Dads face looked confused and almost alarmed. "A friend?"

John rephrases, "an enemy" the confusion on his face is wiped of as he says, "Oh, which one?" John looked at him, slightly taken aback.

"Well, your arch enemy. Do people have arch enemies?" but he was cut off before he could finish.

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?"  
"Yes."

"Did you take it?"

"No"

"Pity we could've split the fee, think it through next time." John looked at dad as if he was mad.

"Who is he?" john asks, I smile out the window. Both me and dad knows who he is.

"The most dangerous man you've ever met and _not_ my problem right now. On my desk. The number."

John read the scrap piece of paper He mumbles to himself, "Jenifer Wilson, wait, wasn't that the dead lady?"

"That's not important, the number…are you doing it?"

"Yes"

"Have you done it?"

"Hang on!" John then shakes his head and carries on typing. Dad can get very annoying sometimes.

"These words precisely. 'What happened at Loriston Gardens? I must've blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street. Please come'"

"You blacked out?"

"What? No. No!" dad gets up off the sofa and steps over the coffee table and grabs the suitcase in the kitchen.

"What was the address again?"

"22 Northumberland Street" I answer him.

"Hurry up!" adds dad impatiently.

Dad opens the suitcase on a chair in front of him and looks at it, looking for any oddities. John looks around baffled.

"That's her case, the pink lady's case."

"Yes obviously." John looks at him in awe.

"Maybe I should mention, dad didn't kill her," I say, not wanting John to assume the worst.

"Why should I think he did?"

"Well the text he had you send and the fact that we have her case, it's a highly logical assumption." I shrug.

"Do people usually assume he's the murderer?"

I smile, "now and then, yes."

"Ok"

John walks across the room to sit in the armchair.

"How did you get this?" he questions.

"By looking," dad says.

"Where?"

"The killer must've driven her to Loriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in a car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention to themselves, especially a man which is statistically more likely. So obviously he would feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. It wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. Me and Kate checked every back street large enough for a car five minutes from Loriston Gardens, and anyway he could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. I took Kate under half an hour to find the right skip."

He basically repeated what I said before we left Loriston Gardens. John was baffled.

"And you got all that because you knew the case would be pink?" dads said as if it was apparent to him.

"Well it had to be pink obviously"

John looked at the floor.

"Why didn't I think of that?" he says sarcastically.

"Because you're an idiot," was dads reply. It was harsh, so I tried to make it sound not as bad. "Don't worry, practically everyone is." I failed.

Dad looked back at the case.

"Look, you see what's missing?"

"How could I?" the answer is crystal clear to me.

"Her phone." I answer. John looks at me. "Well, where's her phone. There was no phone on the body. We know she had one, that was her number you just texted it."

"Maybe she left it at home." He challenged.

"She had a string of lovers and she was careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home."

John thinks to himself.

"Why did I just send that text?" his face full of bewilderment.

"Well the question is where is her phone _now_" I answer.

"She could've lost it."

"Yes, or…"

"The murderer. You think the murderer has the phone?"

"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is that the murderer has her phone." Dad answers.

"Sorry, what are we doing, did I just text a murderer? What good will that do?" he was cut of by his ringtone sounding.

(Withheld) calling…

"A few hours after his last victim and now he receives a text that can only be from her. I somebody had just found the phone they would ignore a text like that, but the murderer… would panic!" dad slams the case shut and walks over to get his coat and scarf. I do the same.

"Have you talked to the police?"

"Four people are dead, there's not time to talk to the police. Well?"

"Well what?"

" You could sit here and watch tely," making it sound as boring as humanly possible.

"You want me to come with you two?"

"Yeah, problem?"

"Yes, Sargent Donovan." Both me and dad sigh.

"What about her?" he breathes out.

"She told me you get of on this. You enjoy it." Dad has a childish flicker in his eye.

"And I said the word dangerous, and here you are." And he walks out the door with me following at his heels. I hear John hobble down the stairs behind us.

We walk down the busy street. I know where we're going to, but I imagine John has no clue. "Where are we going?"

"Northumberland Street" I answer, "It's a five minute walk from here."

He turns to dad, "You think he would be stupid enough to go there?"

"No I think he's is brilliant enough."

"I love the brilliant ones, they're always so desperate to get caught." I joke with dad, he smirks a bit and John looks at me like I'm a bit loopy. Ignoring me, John asks, "Why?"

"Appreciation, applause. At long last, the spotlight. The thing with genius is that it needs an audience." I say. I study Psychology at GCSE and I also have an personal interest in that area. So I know very well that geniuses like to get noticed. Dad starts to think aloud.

"This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted it changes everything. Because all of his victims were taken from busy streets, crowded places but nobody saw them go." he lets out a frustrated growl, "Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who Hunt in the middle of a crowd?"

"I don't know, who?" John asks.

"Haven't the faintest, any ideas Kate?"

"I have a few ideas. But it could be a long list of people, from a policeman to a dustbin man. I'll get back to you on that."

"Okay, Hungry?" dad asks as he steers us towards Angelos' restaurant.

We walk in and pick a table next to the window and dad says, "22 Northumberland Street, keep your eyes on it," as we sit down. I take the space next to dad, so I can look out as well.

"He's not just going to ring the doorbell is he?" John jokes, "He'd have to be mad."

Dad, not knowing that John was joking says, "Well he has killed four people." That brings a awkward silence over the table. Angelo comes over, "Sherlock, Kate," he beams at us, "whatever you want on the menu for free. For all three of you." He turns to John; "This man got me off a murder charge."

"This is Angelo. Three years ago I was able to prove to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that he was in a completely different part of town housebreaking."

"He cleared my name." Angelo smiles.

"I cleared it a bit. Anything happening opposite?"

"No." turning back to John, "but for this man, I'd have gone to prison." Dad cut him off. "You did go to prison."

"Its good to see you both," and Angelo turns and goes.

We order food and sit in an uncomfortable silence.

After our food arrives, John suddenly says, out of the blue, "People don't have arch enemies." Both me and dad look at him blankly. "In real life people don't have arch enemies," he states again.

"Really, how dull. So what do people have in their real lives then?"

"Friends, people they like, people they don't like, girlfriends, boyfriends." I can see where this convocation is going.

"Well, as I was saying. Dull." Dad states bluntly.

"You don't have a girlfriend then?"

Are they really going to have this convocation now, when I'm right here?

"Girlfriend? No, not really my area."

John gave a surprised "Oh right… do you have a boyfriend… which is fine by the way."

"I know its fine."

I feel like shouting' I'M RIGHT HERE!' but that would attract so much attention.

"Sooo… you've got a boyfriend?"

"No"

"Right, okay. You're unattached. Like me." He says quietly. I can feel a look of disgust creeping up onto my face.

"John, I just want you to know that I consider myself married to my work and while I'm flattered by your interests…" I stop eating, throw my napkin onto my plate and lean back in disgust. They seem to realize that I'm actually there. John quickly says, "no I'm just saying, it's all fine," trying to get himself out of the hole he had dug himself into.

"Ok, thank you."

I look at them both looking at me, but I ignore them and look out of the window. I notice a taxi had stopped outside number 22.

"Look across the street. A taxi, stopped. Nobody getting in a nobody getting out."

They both turn and look.

"Why a taxi?" dad enquires. "Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?" he says quickly and he grabs his coat.

I get up and walk out of the restaurant. The taxi starts to drive away. I run across the road, not looking. A car nearly hits me, but I jump across the bonnet. I can hear both dad and John shouting my name, but the taxi is getting away. I run after it. When it's evident that I'm not as fast as the taxi, I stop and reroute myself. One way, right turn, traffic lights, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights. I start to run the new route. I can obviously run faster than the two men. I make my way up a fire exit and jump over a gap between two buildings. I can hear dad shouting me "slow down, wait for us" but I'm too motivated to get to the taxi. Lactic acid builds up in my muscles but I push on. I slide down another fire exit and run down the ally. The taxi passes right in front of me and I sprint down more another ally until I am right in front of the taxi. The taxi doesn't stop until it hits me. The impact on my middle body hurts and I bang my head as I bounce of the bonnet. I'm knocked back by the force of the taxi and I land flat on my back. I lie on the ground and rest while dad interrogates the passenger. John comes over to me and sits me up. My head is throbbing with pain and I feel dizzy, but it will wear off.

"Are you ok? You're head is bleeding from when you hit it on the bonnet." John states. But I know how badly he wants to see who's in the taxi.

"John, I'm okay. Go and interrogate him." He picks me up and leads me over to the closest building. I prop myself up and compose myself while they question the passenger.

They walked back over to me with disappointed faces, not really noticing me.

"Basically, that was a cab that just happened to slow down?"

"Basically." Dad looked rather irritated.

"Not the murderer?"

"_Not_ the murderer, no."

"Wrong country good alibi. Anyway, where did you get this? Detective Inspector Lestrade?" reaching out for the ID card dad has.

"Yes, I pickpocket him when he's annoying. You can keep that one, I have plenty more back at the flat." Dad turns to me concerned, "Are you alright?"

I sigh, "yes," and I stand up straight and let out a loud breath, "I won't be doing that again for a while." Dad chuckles and wraps his arm around my shoulders.

"Lets get you home."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The dizziness was starting to wear off from the collision and so was the throbbing pain all over my body. As we got back to Baker Street john murmurs to himself as he hangs his coat up, "That was ridiculous. That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever done."

"And you invaded Afghanistan," was my witty comeback. Both John and dad laugh. Their laughs are completely different, Johns being very high pitched and dads being very deep.

"That wasn't just me. Why aren't we back at the restaurant?"

"Angelo can keep an eye on it for me, it was a long shot anyway." Dad answers.

" So what were we doing there then?"

"Oh, just passing the time… and proving a point."

"What point."

"You." At this point I had noticed the absence of Johns walking stick, and also how he had run through the streets of London without it.

Dad yells to Mrs. Hudson with a smirk, "Mrs. Hudson, Dr. Watson will take the room upstairs." I smirk too, because John is completely clueless.

"Says who?" he asks.

"Says the man at the door." And as if on cue, Angelo knocks on the door. John investigates who it is and me and dad continue to smile at each other. "You alright now?"

I smile, "Yep!" I say popping the 'p'.

Mrs. Hudson comes rushing out of her apartment with a terrified look on her face.

"Sherlock, what have you done?" she asks alarmed.

"Mrs. Hudson?" he looks at her concerned.

"Upstairs," she says simply and motioned with he arm. She looks at me and sees the dried blood on my face, "Oh my god!" she cries. I grab her arm and lead her to her front door.

"It's okay Mrs. Hudson, I'm fine. Nothing has happened much." I comforted. She nods and I run up the stairs after dad.

I walk in to see Lestrade sitting in dads chair, legs crossed and extremely comfortable, smirking at dad.

"What are you doing?" I ask, slightly annoyed.

"Well I knew you two would find the case, I'm not stupid. What happened to you?" motioning to my face.

"Nothing," I snarl back at him, "you can't just break into our flat!"

"And you," he motioned to both me and dad, "can't withhold evidence, and I'm not breaking into your flat."

My anger begins to bubble up inside me, "Well, what do you call this then?" I yell.

Lestrade looks around, "It's a drugs bust!" he smirks.

I shake my head and head over to sit in the windowsill.

"Seriously, this guy a druggie? Have you met him?"

"John," I warn, he doesn't want to go there.

"I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day and you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational."

"John, you might want to _shut up_," I warn again. He look at me then turns to dad.

"No," he says in disbelief.

"What?" dad answers shortly.

"You?"

"Shut up," he turns to Lestrade, "I'm not you sniffer dog."

"No Anderson is my sniffer dog."

Anderson?

"Anderson?," dad turns to see Anderson emerge from out the fridge, "Anderson, what are you doing on a drugs bust?"

"Oh, I volunteered," he smile evilly and waves at me. I ignore him and stare out of the window.

Someone walks over to me while dad is having an argument with Lestrade and Donovan.

"Excuse me, I'm going to have to ask you to move, while I check the windowsill."

I smile at him, "Well, I decline," and I stare out the window again.

"Miss, if you don't move I will have to move you by force," he threatens.

I smirk and lean closer to him, "go on then, I dare you" I whisper to him. He tries to pick me up, but I block his arm and slap his face. The room falls silent. Although, dad doesn't intervene much.

"Kate, what was that for?" Lestrade asks.

"He was going to move me by force, and I really don't like being man handled so I slapped him." I shrug.

Lestrade turns to the police officer. "Is it necessary that you check that window?"

"Well, it is a drugs bust sir, I assumed we check the whole place out."

"That being said, the rules state that you can't move someone, especially a young woman, against their will, especially by force. So I think you owe someone an apology."

The policeman turns to me sulkily and murmurs an, "I'm sorry." But I liked to embarrass him more.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that?" the policeman scowls at me, but Lestrade coughs and the Policeman apologizes louder. I smirk and stare out of the window once more, but I tune into the other convocation

"Sherlock, this is our case and I'm letting you in but you do not go of on your own, clear?"

"What, so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?"

"It will stop being pretend if they find anything," mocking him.

"I am clean!" dad states rather annoyed.

"Is your flat?"

"I don't even smoke,"

"Neither do I. So it's this way together… We found Rachel." The argument dies down.

"Who is she?"

"Jenifer Wilsons only daughter."

"Daughter? Why would she write he daughters name? Why?" annoyingly Anderson steps in.

"Never mind that, we found the case. According to someone the murderer has the case, and we find it in the hands of our favorite psychopath."

Idiot.

"I'm not a psychopath, I'm a high functioning sociopath. Do your research." He turns to Lestrade.

'You need to bring Rachel in and you need to question her, I need to question her."

"She's dead, "Lestrade states grimly.

"Excellent, how where when why, there has to be a connection."

"Well I doubt it since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jenifer Wilsons stillborn daughter."

"No… that's not right… why would she do that, why?"

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments, yeah, sociopath, I'm seeing it now." Andersons voice full of sarcasm.

Idiot.

"She didn't just think about her daughter," I say, "She scratched her name on the floor using her fingernails. She was dying, it would've take effort and it would've hurt." He looks at me in horror.

"You said that all the victims took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow?" John suggests.

"But that was ages ago, why would she still be upset?" dad says. A silence falls in the flat.

Dad notices and turns to John, "Not good?"

"A bit not good, yeah."

"But if you were dying, in your last few seconds what would you say?"

"Please god let me live."

"Come on, use your imagination John."  
"I don't have to."

"Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever? Jenifer Wilson with all of her lovers, she was trying to tell us something," he was now getting frustrated.

Mrs. Hudson appears at the door, "Isn't your doorbell working Sherlock? your taxi is here." Dad paces quickly around the room, "I didn't order a taxi, go away!" she ignores him.

"Oh they're making such a mess, what are they looking for?"

"It's a drugs bust," John answers her.

"But they're just for my hip, they're herbal soothers." She whispers.

Dad explodes, "Shut up everybody! Shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breath! I'm trying to think! Anderson, face the other way you're putting me off!"

"What, my face is?"

Lestrade takes charge, "Alright everyone, quite and still. Anderson turn your back"

"Oh for gods sake…!"

"Back. Now. Please." The silence that follows give me time to think too.

Think, Kate. Think. Why her daughters name. Her phone. She worked in the media, so it's most likely she would have had a smart phone. Smart phone, emails, maps, texts, social networks, Internet, 3G GPS… AHHH, that's it!

"I've got it!" I yell.

Dad turns to me.

"Phone" he says.

"GPS" I say.

We both smile and say simultaneously, "Password!"

He turns around to all of the rest of them, "Yes, she was clever, she is cleverer than all you lot and she's dead don't you see? She didn't loose her phone, she never lost it."

"She planted it on him," I finish for him. "when she got out of the car, she knew she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."

"How?"

What?

"What do you mean how?" dad asks.

"Rachel!" we both say.

We are met with blank confused expressions. He tires again.

"Don't you see… Rachel!"  
Another wall of blank faces. He turns to me.

"Look at them, all so vacant. Do you reckon it's nice not being smart?" I say humorously, "Rachel is not a name!" I tell them. John is visibly getting frustrated.

"Then what is it?" he says slightly angry.

Dad turns to me. "Kate, the email address on the case."

"I'm on it," I say reaching for the case and opening the label.

" .uk," I read and dad goes to the laptop and types out the address while talking to himself.

"I've been to slow. She didn't have a laptop which means she did all of her business on her phone. It's a smart phone, its email enabled, so there is a website for her account. Her username is her email address and all together now the password is…"

"Rachel!"

"So we can read her emails, so what." Anderson says stupidly.

"Don't talk out loud Anderson, you lower the IQ of the whole street. We can do much more than just read her emails. It's a smart phone with GPS, so that if you loose it you can locate it online. She is leading us directly to the man who killed her…

"Unless he got rid of it…" Lestrade inputs.

"But we know he didn't."

Mrs. Hudson hurries up the stairs again and tries to say, "Sherlock dear, this taxi driver…" but dad cuts her off, "Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" sarcastically.

I look over Johns shoulder to see where it is. Its here. In 221B Baker Street.

"Dad, it's here. How can it be here?"

I begin to pace around the room while dad stands still questioning himself.

"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it feel out."

"Are you implying that me nor dad would notice that? Us of all people?" I question, "Anyway, we John texted the number and it rang back." Lestrade seems to not believe me. He says to his officers, "Alright, we're also looking for a phone somewhere." I think and pace.

Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who Hunt in the middle of a crowd? Who would be the only person who would be at all of those places.

Oh! Oh! How could I have been so stupid? The phone is here but none of us has it. The taxi driver outside. The cabby. How clever, no one would suspect him. I hadn't been listening to anything else due to my concentration. When I snap out of my thoughts, I am about to tell dad what I knew, only to find he wasn't there.

"Where's dad?" I ask.

"He went to get some air."

"The taxi driver!" I suddenly realize. My dad was in the company of a murderer. I run out the door and down the stairs. I only narrowly miss him, the taxi speeds off as soon as I reach the door. I growl in frustration. All of the murders were in random places, he could be taking him anywhere.

I run up the stairs and walk towards John, "Try the search again, please."

Lestrade walk over to me, "What's going on Kate?"

"Think about this, all of the murders were random and at random places. The only think that links them is the drug and they're suicides. So the killer is killing at random. They were all taken from crowded places. What do most people get from a crowded place?" he still doesn't follow.

"A cab! The murderer is a taxi driver! He can look inconspicuous in a crowd. That's how he goes unnoticed. My dad just got in the killer taxi drivers car."

"So the taxi that hit you, it was the driver and not the passenger?"

"Yes!"

Lestrade interrupts us, "You got hit by a taxi? Is that what the blood on your forehead is?

"yes, that's not important. I need to find my dad. Where is he going? "

Sargent Donovan interrupts me, looking at her boss strangely.

"Are you really going to listen to a child? She is young and her imagination is probably getting the better of her. She is just as much a freak as her dad. She is wasting our time." She says. I stay silent.

"Ok everyone, we're done here," Lestrade declares and walks out, throwing an apologetic smile at me. Just before Donovan leaves I grab her by her arm and talk quietly but threateningly to her.

"I'm right here you know. I can hear what you're saying about me. I'm not deaf. But if you don't listen to me you will be inspecting another body. And if that happens, I will hold you responsible and you will regret the day you didn't listen to this child." I hiss at her. I let go of her arm and she hurries out of the house.

The laptop rings to tell us that the location has be found. Both me and John look at it.

"The Roland-Kerr further education college, a nice quiet spot for a murder." I observe while I grab my coat and John grabs his. I run down the stairs and hail a taxi. The ride to the college was filled with worry. I hope we can get to him in time. When we arrive, there are two dark buildings. We need to find him.

"We'll split up, I'll go in this building you go check this one. Okay?"

"No, he is a killer I'm not letting you walk into the wrath of a murderer on your own."

"Honestly John, I can look after myself, I'll be fine. But if we don't hurry, he will kill dad. I'll go in this one, okay?" I don't bother waiting for an answer. I run of into the dark school. I am met with room after room of emptiness. Finally, I see a beam of light coming from one of the classrooms. I peer through the glass on the door to see the back of a mans head and dad facing him. Dad sees me looking at him and he flicks his head making it look like he was flicking his hair out of his eyes, telling me to go away. I shake my head. I look on the table and see two bottles both with a tablet in.

The cab driver notices dad looking out of the door window, and turns around to see who it is. I duck and the cab driver fails to see me. I listen through the door.

"The two bottles, explain."

"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pills from the good bottle you live, take the pill from the bad bottle you die."

"Both bottles are of course identical."

"In everyway."

"And you know which is which."

"Of course I know."

"But I don't."

"Well, it wouldn't be a game if you knew. You're the one who chooses."

"Why should I? I've got nothing to go on. What's in it for me?"

"I haven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the other one. And then together we take our medicine. I won't cheat, it's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't. Didn't expect that did you Mr. Holmes?"

I need to move fast. I run down the dark corridors and fumble for my phone. I call Lestrade on his mobile.

"Hello?"

"Lestrade, I need you to come now! We're at the Roland-Kerr further education college. The murderer is here." I hang up and run into the next building, looking for John.

When I find John, he is looking through the window at dad and the murderer.

"John! I called Lestrade and he's on his way. I found the room dad is in. There are two pills, one is the suicide pill and one is a placebo. He is making dad choose and he will take the one dad doesn't." I stop and pause for breath. I have known that John has a gun stuffed down his trousers for a long time.

"John, I think I had better remind you that you have a handgun on your person. Stay here, and I dad shows any signs of taking that pill I want you to shoot the murderer. He is my dad, I don't want to loose him," and with that, I run to the other building again. I run to the door and briefly see dad walk towards the door, saying, "I look forward to the court case." He gets to the door and I just about to turn the cold handle, when the murderer says, "before you go did you figure it out, which ones the good bottle?" I knew dad, he wouldn't be able to resist the right answer. He let go of the handle and stepped away from the door.

"Of course. Childs play." I wish he would walk away, like any other human being.

"Which one is it then?" he was playing a game, getting dad to play. "Just so I know if I could've beaten you. Dad walks over and picks up the bottle closest to the murderer.

"Oh! Shall we?" The murderer taunts as he unscrews the cap and lifts the pill up to his face. He taunts dad further, "What's the good of being clever if you cant prove it? Can you beat me?" I look through the window and see dad lifting the pill closer, and closer to his mouth. I hold my hand up to my mouth to stop my ragged breaths, but its no use. I can't help myself. I run through the door and shout, "NO!" They both turn to me alarmed. Then, a gunshot goes off. I let out a little yelp as the taxi drivers blood splatters on my face. I remember Johns gun and I realize that dad doesn't know it was him. I see him rush over to the window to see who it is. When he doesn't see anyone, he rushes back over to the injured taxi driver.

"Was I right? I was wasn't I? Did I get it right?" when he gets no reply, he throws the pill in frustration at the taxi drivers face.

"Okay, but tell me this. Your sponsor, who was it? The one who told you about me, my fan? I want a name."

The murderer let out a shaky "no."

"You're dying, but there's still time to hurt you. Give me a name," he says severely. The cab driver shakes his head feebly. Dad steps on his wounded shoulder. He lets out a painful cry.

"A name, now! The NAME!"

"MORIARTY!" he yelps before his body lies limp in a pool of his blood. Dad looks around and murmurs the name to himself before standing up straight and walking over to me.

"Are you alright?" he asks worriedly.

"Yeah, you?" I ask worriedly. We both worry about each other. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and walks us towards the exit.

We are met by a wall of policemen standing around behind a piece of police tape. Lestrade jogs over to us and immediately see the blood on my face, "oh my god, what happened?" he asks. While dad talks Lestrade through what happened, I went to see John.

"Thanks John." I quietly say.

"No problem," we smile at each other for a split second.

"Oh, by the way, dad doesn't know you shot him, so act innocent when he asks. He always falls for my innocence," I say before a police officer ushers me away to get the blood cleaned off my face. While I was in the ambulance, the paramedic looked at the cut on my head from when I got hit by the taxi. When I was done, I look and find dad sitting on the steps of the ambulance. A man comes and drapes an fluorescent orange blanket over his shoulders, when Lestrade comes over.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me."

"Yes, its for shock" Lestrade says, but I think that's not the only reason.

"I'm not in shock"

"Yes, well, some of the guys want to take photographs." I roll my eyes. Typical.

"So the shooter, no sign?" dad enquires.

"No, cleared off before we got here. But a guy like that would've had enemies I suppose, one of them could've been following him. But, we've got nothing to go on." Few, John won't get suspected.

"I wouldn't say that." Crap. Lestrade rolls his eyes.

"Okay, gimme."

"The bullet they just dug out of the wall was a handgun. A kill shot over that distance with a weapon like that, that's a crack shot your looking for. But not just a marksman, but a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so they're acclimatized to violence. He fired when I was in immediate danger, so strong moral principle. Your looking for a man probably with a history of military service…" he looks over to John, "and… nerves of steel…actually, you know what, ignore me."

"I'm sorry" a surprised Lestrade asks.

"Ignore all of that, its just the… the shock talking," and he begins to walk away.

"Where are you going?"

"I just need to talk about the… the rent" dad lies rather poorly.

"I've still got questions…" Lestrade tries before being cut off.

"Oh what now. I'm in shock, look I've got a blanket," he says as he waves the corner of the blanket in Lestrades face. Lestrade starts to protest, but dad interrupts him again.

"And I just caught you a serial killer…more or less."

Lestrade sighs, "Okay, I'll question you tomorrow, off you go." And dad walks over to John.

I smile apologetically to Lestrade before following, but Lestrade stops me.

"I apologize for not believing you, and I will get Sargent Donovan to write an apology to you."

Thanks," I smile and try to walk away, but I get stopped again.

"How did you know?" he asks.

"Well, the phone was in the house and I would definitely have noticed if it dropped out. I know you trust your police force and that none of them would have it. Earlier on this evening dad was figuring out who hunts in the middle of a crowd. The only person I could single out was the taxi driver." I say simply.

"OK, but I want you in for questioning tomorrow morning, okay?"

"I have school." I say flatly. I would rather be at Scotland Yard but it's my last year and I wouldn't want to miss anything. Even though I know it all anyway.

"Oh yeah, I'll pop round your house after school, ok?"

"Ok, see you then," and I walk towards dad and John. They begin to talk and I tucked my hands in my pockets and walked beside them. It was nice, listening to dad have a friend, for him to be happy for once. Then one of John's questions took me by surprise.

"You were going to take that pill weren't you?" I was eager to find out his answer.

"Of course I wasn't, I was biding my time. I knew you would turn up. I knew Kate would definitely turn up. she never misses anything, she's just a bit slower than me." He smirks

"I am right here you know," I smile, causing as all to laugh a bit.

"Shhh, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene!" John giggles and a hushed voice.

"You're the one who shot him," dad says before turning to Sargent Donovan, "Don't mind me."

"Its just nerves I think," John adds. We stroll down the street in silence and smile.

"Dinner?" dad asks us, breaking the silence. I suddenly realize how hungry I am. My loud stomach rumble sends the two men into fits of laughter.

"Did that answer your question?" I chuckle. "At the end of Baker Street there's a good Chinese, you can always tell a good Chinese by the bottom third of the door handle." Don't ask me how.

AS we walk away, Johns body tenses, "Sherlock, that's the man. The one I was telling you about earlier." Dads face drops the moment his eyes look upon him.

"I know exactly who that is." He murmurs as we walk towards the shiny sleek Mercedes, with uncle climbing out of it. That spoilt the look.

"Another case cracked, how public spirited. Although that is never your motivation, is it?" uncle calls to us.

"What are you doing here?" dad asks coldly, not making eye contact.

"As ever, I am concerned about you."

"Yes, I've been hearing about you concern." Uncle chuckles at him.

"Always so aggressive. Has it ever occurred to you that we belong on the same side?"

"Oddly enough, no." In my opinion, they are both as bad as each other.

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish, people will suffer. I wouldn't want my dear niece to get hurt," he says whilst glancing in my direction "And you know how it always upset mummy."

"I upset her? Me? It wasn't me who upset her Mycroft!" I could tell dad was getting irritated now. At this point John still had no idea who he was.

"I'm sorry, what? Mummy? Who's mummy?" John was now utterly confused.

"Mother, our mother. John, this is my brother Mycroft."

"So, he's not…" he trails off.

"Not what?"

"I don't know… criminal mastermind?"

"Close enough," dad murmurs.

"for goodness sake, I occupy a minor position in the British government." He states in a rather matter-of-factly way.

"He is the British government when he is not being the British service or the CIA on a freelance basis." Dad informs John before turning back to uncle Mycroft, "Good evening Mycroft, try not to start a war, you know what it does to the traffic."

When I was younger, I made a note not to get involved with their arguments. I never actually had a proper convocation with Uncle Mycroft, but I see him often.

As we walk away John turns back to uncle Mycroft and asks "So when you say you're concerned about him, you really are concerned?"

"Yes, of course."

John nods and follows us.

Aw we walk to the high street, I link my arms into dads and I yawn. He watches at me and smiles.

"What?" I ask, with a curious smile on my face.

"I think when we get home, this little girl need to go to bed," he smiles mocking me. He knows I don't like it when he talks to me like I'm two, but we joke around.

"I'm not two you know?" I laugh and he shrugs, "And what about the Chinese. I can't sleep if I haven't eaten." My puppy dog eyes always work on him. He chuckles at me.

"Oh alright then," he smiles, and we walk back home.

Home.

That's sounds nice.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the week was rather tedious. Settling in to Baker Street. Questioned by Lestrade. It was Friday, the weekend loomed ahead. There were, so far, no cases to look forward to, so both me and dad will be spending most of the weekend being bored. Ah the thought of being bored! It detests me! I have to be doing something, thinking about something. Today we had mock exams. They were so boring. The History and Geography exams were meant to be one hour and fourty five minutes long, and I finished in half an hour. Can you imagine what hell it was for me! I was sitting there, in silence, for far too long. My friend, well I say friend, came up to me after it and said, "You looked bored out of your mind!" how right she was. In the last lesson, an old dotty teacher walked through the classroom door, "Um is Kate Holmes in here? She has a message from someone." She hobbled over to me and gave me the note.

Dear Kate,

I will be collecting you after school today.

Important matters to be discussed.

Black Mercedes outside the school at the end of the day.

~MH

I screwed up the note and threw it in the bin. If he though I was discussing anything he had another thing coming. When last lesson eventually finished, I walked to my locker and got out my keys. As I get my keys out of my bag, a muscly arm leaned on the side of my locker. I assume it is one of the dickheads trying to impress me. I sneak a glance at him, and I was shocked by what I saw. A brown haired boy my age who resembles a Greek god, grinned at me. I huff, "can I help you," I finally get my keys out and opened my locker. "Hi, I'm George, I'm new here," He looks at me expectantly.

"Congratulations," I say, grabbing my skateboard and turning to skate down the corridor. As I glide away, he shouts, "Hey, what's your name?!" Will this person give up? "Unimportant!" I yell back at him, pulling on my beanie and skating out of the school gates. I see the black car, I ignore it. I head back to Baker Street. I plug my earphone in and listen while I skate. As I skate away, I fail to notice the sleek black Mercedes following me. As I stop to cross a busy road, the black car rolls in front of me and the door opens. I cant avoid this can I.

I pick up my board and slide into the soft leather seats.

"How nice to see you Kate," uncle says as I get in.

"Hello," I answer flatly, "can you make this quick, I'm cooking tonight." He rolls his eyes.

"I'm sure you father can survive for an extra five minutes without you company. "I roll my eyes, "I doubt that, why am I here?" I stare him in the eye, waiting for the answer. He chuckles quietly to himself before saying, "Its amusing how you and your father are so alike, so aggressive. I wonder. Me and your father are beyond being friends. I wonder, maybe one day we could be friends. Who knows?" he looks at me, I roll my eyes again, not liking the eye contact.

"Again I ask, why am I here?"

Uncle leans forward, his face turns serious and talks in a hushed voice.

"I'll cut to the chase, MI6 start employing people from a young age, 17 or 18. They are looking for people with skills such as your own. However, in order to apply you need an education in advanced weaponry, which as you know isn't offered to just anyone. If you desire a position in MI6, I am happy to help you get there. I do want the best for my niece." He smiles.

This is so cool! MI6! I think about it for a moment when I start to see the downsides, like being put in life threatening situations.

"Do I have to answer you now?" Uncle leans back and smiles slightly.

"No, you have until next week."

Why was he doing this, this is the first proper conversation we have ever had, and a very serious conversation at that.

"Well, this has been very interesting. See you soon uncle," I say as I climb out of the car, which happened to be outside Baker Street. I notice dad looking through the blinds at me, climbing out of the posh car.

As soon as I step into the living room dad calls mockingly to me, "How is my dear brother?"

"Annoying," I answer bluntly, as I take off my coat and hang it on the back of the door. I expected dad to laugh or agree, but he didn't approve of my lack of seriousness on the matter.

"No time for jokes Kate, what did your uncle want? For you to spy on me?" he walks over and glare intensely at me. I sigh before telling.

"He was telling me about MI6, about how ,if I want to choose that path, I need an education in advanced weaponry. He said he will financially take care of everything, if that's what I want," I sigh. There is an awkward silence for a few seconds before he breaks the silence.

"Are you considering? How long do you have?"

"I have a week to decide if that's what I want, but I'm not sure what I want." I sit in his comfy chair, which I know annoys him but I do it anyway.

"Ok" he adds before hastily changing the subjects, "Can you get your own food tonight?"

I laugh at him, "I do every night anyway! I will in a bit, I'm not hungry right now. Do you want anything?"

He considers, "What day is it?"

"Friday."

"No, I'm ok for a bit." Typical behaviour for a Friday night.

I draw up my knees to my chest and sit in a foetal position. Within minutes, I begin to get restless. I wriggle around and move chairs. I go into my head and block everything out.

"Kate?" dad calls. I ignore him.

"Kate!"

"What!" I snap and look at him. He has a hurt look on his face. "Sorry, yes?"

"You seem a bit on edge, are you okay?"

"Yeah…yeah, 'm fine," I trail off and stare into the distance. I see him out of the corner of my eye, he just shrugs and returns to his palace.

Nothing of importance happens that night, and I go to bed with my head full of unanswered questions. I hear dad playing his violin at midnight. Normally I would be angry at him for interrupting my sleep, but he played a lullaby he played to me when I was a child. Its sweet melody hooked my brain and lulled me back to sleep.

**A/N- thanks for the 2 nice reviews got. it always motivates me to write more. I sorry it took so long to update. I find writing this a long process and hard to write, but the harder to write the better! Thanks and I will try to update asap in the future!**

**~Cat x**


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